A Cottage of Dreams
by Buddhacide
Summary: Angela Brooks is dying. No magic can save her. When mage teacher Masami Oyamada travels to the idyllic English shires to attend to the bedridden and terrified witch, little does he know that he'll reunite with Angela's best friend: his former student, Yume Kikuchi. They have all the time in the world of Angela's sad mansion. Will their unresolved feelings bubble to the surface?


**Of Countrysides and Mansions**

_A Someday's Dreamers fanfiction story_

Genre: Tragedy/Drama

Angela Brooks is dying. No magic can save her. When Masami Oyamada travels to the idyllic English shires to attend to the bedridden and terrified mage, little does he know that he'll reunite with Angela's friend and his former student, Yume. Will their unresolved feelings bubble to the surface…?

* * *

A/N: Many years ago, from 2004 and 2005, the series "Someday's Dreamers" was released in Australia. I bought the three DVD sets and the soundtrack album, and I can say that no anime has given me so much nostalgia and enjoyment (besides Marimite! ^^). It's about a world where mages exist as registered public servants who fulfill requests to help, heal, and repair (with profound limitations). It's always been a niche interest anime, but I personally loved it.

Its music of English and Irish suburbs and memories of country shires, utterly relaxed atmosphere (which is perfect for a series about growing up), and understated romance between trainee witch Yume and her teacher hooked me, despite being only 12 episodes long. This series and its music have accompanied me across the world and well into my working life, and this story is my tribute to it.

Here's to mounds of green grass, park benches and comforting fireplaces, the local village pub, and the magic of nostalgia. I hope you like it! ^_^

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**Chapter 1: Nether Worton House**

* * *

Immigration had been tightened at Heathrow, observed the beautiful Japanese man silently. Why else would the officer be asking him so many questions? He kept a gentle smile as he braced himself. The Scottish-sounding fellow was about to commence the guilty-until-proven-innocent inquisition:

"You're Masami Oyamada, eh? Where from Japan?" asked the gatekeeper sharply, looking up the visitor up and down, peering at his crisp white blazer, pink shirt, and slim beige trousers. _A bit of a metrosexual_, he observed callously to himself.

"As you can see," replied Oyamada, gesturing to his torn flight ticket, "I flew from Tokyo."

"Order of business?"

"Work."

"What kind of work?"

"I have a meeting."

"With who?"

"Have you heard of Chief Master Gin Pun…?"

"Who's that? Who's your employer?"

"The Bureau of Mage Labor."

The officer glanced back at him with a hint of earned respect. There was still suspicion and wariness, of course, but it was tempered by the fact that Oyamada was of a respectable industry. The magic teacher had never been to the United Kingdom except on a business trip with Gin Pun, the most powerful and highest ranking mage of his generation. That was quite a few years ago, when he still managed his bar and salsa club, Pachanga. Now his friend Smiley was the full-time owner. The fact that Pachanga was nestled just underneath his flat and mage office meant that he and Smiley were effectively co-habiting. Living with another handsome man stirred the giggling gossip of many an adoring female patron, but he accepted it in good sport. After all, he was no longer the melancholy, miserable chain smoker of the past.

A onetime student taught him that his life deserved more than eternal bereavement. His beloved, late Takako would never have wanted him to stand still in grief while time moved on with each heartbeat.

He had so much to thank for being Kikuchi Yume's teacher.

"_But this is goodbye_," stammered Yume, at their post-exam parting.

"_Then come again_," he had invited simply. "_I'll be waiting for you_."

"_Yes_!" cried Yume happily. "_I'll come again, for sure_."

They hadn't seen each other since.

These ruminations got him past customs and away from the luggage pickup (he was a light and frugal traveller, with only one medium-sized suitcase for an entire month's stay). Last time he came to Heathrow, he had taken the Piccadilly Line straight to South Kensington for the global mages' meeting. This time, however, he would be heading to the country. "May I please know the schedule of the next airline coach to Oxfordshire?' he requested at an Airbus counter. He glanced down at the scrawled address on a slip of paper inside his passport. It listed an address:

_Miss Angela Charon Brooks,_

_Nether Worton House,_

_Nether Worton Hamlet,_

_North Oxfordshire._

"Please hold on, Angela," he muttered to himself. "I'm on my way."

He would spend the next hour or so staring out his bus window at the shifting landscape of England, as Heathrow grew more and more distant and the roads opened up into the fair, pleasant green land that was so celebrated in literature and art. Even the gently humming bus had a quiet and reflective ambience. All his fellow passengers, be they Chinese tourists, businessmen from Lagos, or British Indians returning home, were tired. Hardly anyone made a sound except for the occasional phone call. He let the meandering suburbia take him into the countryside, glimpsing the occasional cluster of houses, farms, and villages. They were so different from Tokyo, from even the Japanese countryside. The sheer variety of residences was absolutely beautiful and inspiring, and he wondered briefly if it might be nice to try saving up for retirement in somewhere like Huntingdon in Cambridgeshire or Tring at Hertfordshire.

_They'd hate a neighbor like Smiley, though. He's always been the loud one. And what would happen to Pachanga? Those villages don't look like they'd prefer a salsa club to their local bar_… he thought to himself sleepily, leaning back against his seat. He blinked several times, yawning. _I'm probably stuck with that fellow for the rest of my days_.

The worry gnawing away at his heart seemed to ease off slightly as he closed his eyes, and gave in to the fond memories of a guileless country girl who once trained in witchcraft under his gaze…

* * *

Oyamada was not an easily surprised man, but even he couldn't help sighing in impressed awe at the oak double gates and stone archway that led to the extravagant, three-story manor beyond the courtyard and gravel drive. The residence was built from coursed square marlstone, with mostly limestone ashlar dressings and mullion windows. He had heard of these lavish country houses in the past: he could already glimpse the moated gardens and grassy grounds of the property (was that the wall of a tennis court behind the trees over there?). The expansive lawns and yew hedging and terraces seemed to capture the most beautiful the British countryside had to offer. He glanced at one of the security guards, who to his surprise gave a short nod of recognition. He pushed open the wooden gates and gestured for Oyamada to walk past the archway. The mage couldn't help looking around in slight envy at the comfortably grey sky and the rolling green acres. Just outside the magnificent doors to the main reception room was a mysterious wizard with long grey hair and androgynous vermillion and white robes. Oyamada gave a nod as he slowly approached him. His suitcase's wheels grinded loudly along the gravel of the manor's driveway.

"Master Gin Pun," he said, as he approached the waiting man and bowed at the waist. "I came as quickly as I could."

"Hello," Master Gin Pun said. "I've been expecting you."

"Miss Angela Brooks," confirmed Oyamada, his smile fading quickly as the gravity of the situation reasserted itself. "Is she alright? How is she holding up?"

Although a mystic blindfold shrouded the most expressive part of Gin Pun's face – his eyes – his pursed lips told all. "Angela was a strong student and has always been a hardy young lady. But this…" He lowered his blind gaze. "The doctors give her two months at most. Treatment will be focused on reducing the pain and allowing for a peaceful transition. I have invited you here not as a mage, but as one of Angela's trusted mentors."

The doors to the reception opened behind Gin Pun, and the mustached, impeccably suited butler inside gestured for the two mages to carry on inside. "Good afternoon, Mr. Oyamada. My name is Henry Shipman, the Brooks' butler. I've been entertaining Master Gin Pun since morning; please, make yourself at home," he said in slightly accented but otherwise faultless Japanese.

Oyamada nodded in pleasant surprise and bowed again. "Hello, Mr. Shipman," he replied. "I'm sorry about Angela. This must have been exhausting time for her and yourself."

Mr. Shipman smiled stoically. "You're very observant, sir. Thank you for your empathy. Indeed, I plan to look for work elsewhere after Angela leaves us. I have served her family for nineteen years, longer than she has lived on this cruel world. But when she was born, she captured all our hearts. When she goes, so will my loyalty."

Oyamada walked up two steps and made his way within. There was no need for any light; the grey sky still had enough sun for natural illumination. He looked around, first up at the intricate chandelier hanging from the ornate high ceiling, then soaking in the wide and roomy hall that had a staircase leading up to the master bedroom suite. The left hallway was immense, carpeted in Georgian fabric that stretched to the cloakroom and oak-paneled dining room. No doubt that beyond that the dining room would lead through to a sitting room, complete with a stone fireplace and wood mantle.

"There's so much more to explore here, in this manor of the Brooks family," pondered Master Gin Pun aloud. "She could have been spoilt and dependent, but even when she lived with me back home, she never asked to be served tea. Now she can't get out of bed."

"No," groaned Oyamada in disbelief. But deep down, he knew that none of this would be happening if it weren't sadly true. Still, he continued to ask, for tragedy demands an answer even when there is none. "How could this be?"

"She has one month, at most. That is why I asked you to stay for four weeks. She will want her closest and most precious people by her side."

Oyamada grimaced. Angela Brooks was one of Yume's best friends, and perhaps the most accomplished witch of her generation. Yes, she may have been emotional, and yes, she was a handful even for Gin Pun, who had been her teacher. But no one ever expected anything less than great things of her. But the years-long illness had been crippling, and the most terrifying reminder of mortality is when the body starts refusing the mind's commands. "It's only been a few years, but who knew such cruelty would be visited on her?"

"Indeed. It is heartbreaking for all involved. And were my eyes still functioning organs, they would surely be in tears." The unreadable Gin Pun had been preoccupied with staring at one of the Brooks' family portraits on the wall until he turned to face Oyamada. His voice was utterly still and tranquil, but his words seemed completely sincere. "You will believe me if I tell you I am heartbroken, yes?"

"Of course," said Oyamada at once. His brow was creased in respect, lips terse with sincerity. "A quiet grief is often more telling than wailing and shouting. I can tell your heart is crying, if only softly."

"She's sleeping in the master room and can't join us for dinner. Shall I ask Mr. Shipman to take your luggage to your room and prepare some afternoon tea? We can bring dinner to her in the evening."

"Of course. If he will be so kind," replied Oyamada, and the butler gave a short bow before moving to take his suitcase. "Angela's home is magnificent, truly. Anyone would be eager to enjoy its many rooms and gardens. But I know well that that is not why I've come."

They made their way past the ancient wallpaper of the right corridor, towards another waiting room that Mr. Shipman had prepared. Their shoes pressed against the carpets and hardwood floors. In the corner was a dusty piano, and all around them were dark brown bookshelves, full of old tomes. Four long couches were arranged around a magnificent, ashen coffee table. Behind them was a wooden fireplace, the second of its kind in the manor. He sat down at the edge of one sofa, and Gin Pun followed suit on another.

The silence was only broken by the creaking of the wooden floorboards and shifting of the couch pillows.

"Angela will have to let go sooner or later. We will also have to let go of her," said the chief mage bluntly. "That is why I have spared no expense in summoning her most intimate circle. But evening is approaching, so I request that you visit her only in the morning."

"Thank you for your generosity in subsidizing my trip here. I am in your debt."

"Don't mention it. Flying to England and paying for accommodation out of your own pocket can be eye-wateringly expensive. And you are missing out on teaching possible students back home. It's only natural that I compensate you." Gin Pun paused, his eerie, vermillion blindfold facing one of the bookshelves. "I asked the Bureau to pay for one more guest. You should know her well."

Looking back on what Gin Pun said then, Oyamada should have known to whom the former was referring. He even forgot to ask that most basic of questions: "Who?"

But it never struck him then that he would soon reunite with her here, in this stately English home of the Brooks family at which the Chief Mage was always welcome. He never imagined that it was here that he would meet his rescuer from many years ago.

He had no idea Yume Kikuchi was in the same mansion as he. But soon he would soon see for himself, and he would have to make a choice of unprecedented intimacy in her presence.

This was a magnificent residence, dressing rooms and fireplaces all. He could get used to this. But he knew he wasn't supposed to be enjoying his time here. He needed to take care of Angela.

He had one month to look after a young girl until her final hours.

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER: REUNION WITH A FORMER STUDENT.**


End file.
